


#12

by Schweet



Series: What Would I Even Tell Her [12]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, F/F, Love Poems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24676669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schweet/pseuds/Schweet
Summary: Edit- 8/6/2020 (updated to be better)Edit- 11/3/2020 (Call me Mr. Turner because I'm always making changes)
Series: What Would I Even Tell Her [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605673
Kudos: 1





	#12

**Author's Note:**

> Edit- 8/6/2020 (updated to be better)  
> Edit- 11/3/2020 (Call me Mr. Turner because I'm always making changes)

Hello Elizabeth

I love a girl

Yes

I love a girl

- _ and it doesn’t make me sick to think those words anymore _ -

And oh is she the best girl in the world

She is smart, and funny, and so so beautiful

- _ I have never met Aphrodite, but I can’t imagine her being more beautiful than this girl I so desperately want to be mine _ -

She is caring, she has such a big heart, she loves all and everything in between

- _ she has even set a little bit aside for me _

_ wrapped the little package of her love in a breathable linen stitched with the words of her reminders that I am loved by so many people, that my life has such incredible worth, even if I cannot see it yet _

_ and tied with a strand of silk from the golden lasso of truth, proving to me the weight of those words _

_ and set that package on one of the empty shelves in my heart _

_ as she slowly replaces what was burned by the first girl I now realize this fabergé heart loved _ -

She is strong, she can accomplish anything she puts her mind to and she puts her mind to so many amazing things

- _ the world will one day quiver from the weight of change that follows in her footsteps _ -

I love her so so much, and I need you to know that

To know that I would love her to the best of my ability, and hopefully more than anyone else ever has or ever could

And all I can do is hope you will understand

Because I know you will never agree

But oh

Do I love her

I love her more than I've ever loved anyone before

More than I thought this china heart and butcher knife soul could ever possibly love

I want to run across the miles that separate us and arrive on her doorstep with her favourite flowers and her favourite meal

I want to lean against her white fridge covered in childhood school portraits and team soccer photos and post-its and Christmas cards from 2002

I want to watch her as she once again teaches me how to make banana fosters

I want to laugh wildly with her as the alcohol in her pan turns into a fire that reaches for the wooden cabinets above

I want to hold her hands in my own

Hands that could trace constellations of life across the burned hills she lives among

I want to shield her from the world, from the horrors that exist in this terrible world, to ensure she never experiences what I have experienced in this horrific world

I want to be the sword she brandishes against her own demons while she is the spotlight that reduces the territory of which in mine can hide

I want to hold her tight and never let go

I want to love her in the open

Let the world behold her and show everyone why I love her

I love her I love her I love her

But it is a fantasy

Her church may accept the people who paint more than their skin in rainbows

May have promised me and all her children that rainbows are gifts from God

So of course,

Any hearts He paints in such a myriad of life

Of His most favourite creation

Would be not just welcomed

But adored

But my church?

They wouldn’t even bother to pierce me to a tree because that punishment is reserved only for saviours of the world

And I am an abomination

An obscenity

To everything in His sight

My church would place stone upon stone upon stone upon stone upon my chest until my ribs splinter from the weight of their words and the scars upon my wrists would become lacerations under their steel tongues sharpened weekly by the whetstone of hatred from the pulpit

They would not bother to grace my tomb with a headstone

I may love her

But I would never be able to love her in the open

And I could never read to the world from my list of reasons why I love her

So I will keep that list in my heart

Until one day

- _ one magnificent day _ -

I can be brave enough to read that list to the world and be proud in my rainbows refracting across my healed heart


End file.
